Now I’m a mother, my experiences of sexual harassment mean so much more

Gemma Barder - 4 Nov 17

I have just watched the marvellous Jo Brand perfectly school the cast of HIGNFY on why sexual harassment shouldn’t be made light of. She did it so articulately, there was just no coming back from it for any of the (entirely male) panellists.

One look at Ian Hislop’s face is enough to make anyone who has made light of the tidal wave of cases coming to the surface over the past month, feel thoroughly ashamed. I felt ashamed for him.

Listening to the radio and reading the news over the past few weeks has awakened two memories in me that I had played down, dampened down, locked away, chalked up in the ‘Oh well, things happen’ part of my brain. The trouble is, when you have two daughters you can’t help but look at your own experiences as a woman and think how you would feel if those experiences happened to them. Sick is the answer. Sick and nervous and with the overwhelming compulsion to buy a Rapunzel-style tower to lock them away in.

Both incidents happened with men who held some kind of power (massive shock, right?).

The first happened on the school bus when I was 11 years old. I used to sit near the back, one to be cool (obviously) and two because it was near my big sister. Unfortunately, this meant a long walk down the bus to get off. As I was walking along the aisle, a boy (man) who was in 6^th form at the time, put his hand up my skirt. I’ll never know why I did this, but primal instinct kicked in and I whirled round and thumped him. I realise that this would have made as much impact on him as a hummingbird flying into a gorilla, but the look of sheer shock on his face was one I’ll never forget. ‘Don’t ever do that again!’ I trembled before scampering off the bus. Even though he was clearly in the wrong and I had done NOTHING to warrant his actions, I didn’t tell anyone about it. I felt like somehow I would be the one who got into trouble.

The second incident happened at the local theatre I worked in as an usherette. It was Christmas and the pantomime featured a big-name (at the time) comedian. He not only starred in the show, but produced it as well. It was common knowledge that he was a bit ‘inappropriate’ with staff (don’t you just love that word?) but still, whenever he appeared front-of-house everyone took notice and was on their best behaviour. This particular time, my fellow usherettes and I were standing in the foyer getting our pre-show debrief, when the comedian appeared. I had been told he had a bit of a thing for one of the older members of staff and sometimes came sniffing around to see if she was on duty. She wasn’t. So, instead he made a few jokes and trailed off, but not before he had murmured a lewd remark about the falic-shaped ice creams we sold, so low that only I and, fortunately, one of the supervisors could hear. When he left, my supervisor asked me which door of the auditorium I had been assigned to work on. When I replied that I was working up in the gods on my own, he nodded and said he would accompany me – ‘just in case’. To a naïve 18-year-old I didn’t really know what he meant. 18 years later, of course, I understand.

They’re not Earth-shattering stories. They won’t make the front of the newspaper. They probably wouldn’t get anyone sacked from their job. But they are just two of millions of examples of how women have been treated, are still treated. I think of my two girls in those situations and I want to rage. I want to pick up the bus, Supergirl style, with the boy still in it and throw it into the sea. I want to take the comedian by his ice-cream shaped appendage and whirl him round my head. But at the time, it was something to get over, forget about, move on.

My hope with everything that has come out recently is that we see a change in attitude. For me, women and especially young girls, that things like this really aren’t OK. And certainl y not to be made light of.

Gemma Barder

Freelance writer of books and magazines for small people. Mother of two delightfully dotty daughters.

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